Opposites Attract
by Memoriator
Summary: The eternal winter has left Arendelle scarred. As Elsa sets off to rebuild her kingdom and reconnect with her sister, the arrival of a mysterious thunder storm and an evil cult will throw her kingdom into the crossfire of an age long shadow war where titans of magic clash. A tough path awaits, one that will lead Elsa to something she never knew she wanted. [reworked]
1. Prologue: Welcome To Arendelle

**First things first: I don't own frozen. (i do own the original characters however)**

 **second things second: this is to be a complete rework of Opposites attract. I am very sorry to the people who where enjoying the last version and please understand that I really was committed to finishing it. But there where just massive issues that i felt where holding it back. So i have decided to rewrite what i wrote, strip out some of the stuff that didn't contribute much to the story and add stuff that will contribute throughout.**

 **I say now that a lot has changed, entire chapters have been thrown in the trash, the plot has been restructured and the lore has been reevaluated. I wasn't to sure where i wanted to take the last version until around chapter 10, now however i know _exactly_ where and how i am going to drive this story. So here is the first big change, a prologue, my last version didn't have one of theses.**

 **I'll only say this once: happy reading people.**

* * *

 _To live to die; to die for the living._

 _To live by the blade; to smite the nonliving –_ Extract from the code of the Bladewalkers _._

"Are you one of them?" a child said, his voice struggling to overcome the sound of cool winds beating the ship's sails like drums. His voice being hard to hear wasn't the reason he received no answer however.

The child drew closer, trying to see past the hood, but backed away at the approach of Tholan. He noticing the sword hilt his hand so tightly grasped, the blue and black leather of his armor and distinctive slit in his boot. The boy had a right to be fearful, Bladewalkers such as Tholan had grown rather infamous back in the jagged plains. He'd know the exaggerated stories that mothers would use as blackmail against disobedient children. All know the tales that speak of Tholan's kind kidnapping children in the night and training them to be ruthless slayers of the nonliving.

"Let's move," Tholan said in a hushed tone, "and try to be more careful. Last thing we need is people learning that a dragon knight walks among them." That last bit was an exceptionally quite whisper.

The knight sighed and moved with Tholan on the ship through the crowds of refugees. He kept his head fixed towards the wooden deck below so his hood of brown leather would shroud his eyes. He observed seeping mold and noticed the planks would warp under his step like old hide. Amazing really that this ship managed the journey from the Jagged Plains to Arendelle. Not that it made the trip with haste: sixteen days spent aloft on seas that surged like river rapids.

"So this is Arendelle then," the knight said with a quick glance at the world around him. "It's certainly a lot greener."

"It's not called the green north without reason," Tholan said back. Everyone in the crowd was staring at his blue cape. After registering the black symbol of a sword-impaled griever, they moved from his path.

Tholan, shadowed by the knight, stopped before two men in silk-weaved clothes of green and purple with pops of gold trim around the collars and sleeves. The harbor marshals no doubt, here to make sure no stowaways or smugglers would find their way of this ship. They stood ahead of a wooden gangway that led down to the port. The first people to step on it where Guardsmen with halberds flashing in the moonlight, they wore gambersons of the same green and purple color scheme.

The knight noticed a close resemblance to the flag flying in the port. The green and purple matched the background and the gold trim resembled the flower depicted in the flags image. The knight had no hope of identifying this flower, its shape and features where completely alien to him. A lot of things about this new land where unusual: the smell of salt rather than sulfur; the squawks of seagulls rather than rock hawks.

But not all was different, the knight could spot great mountains to the north that pierced the heavens and he could feel a certain power in the air. It was an unnatural coldness on the wind. Not a coldness that would make you shiver. It was a crisp chill that tingled with the essence of excitement. Something seemed off, upon these winds rode a dark aroma of fear. Every now and then came a bite of frost that would make your hair stand on end. A bad Oman indeed.

"What do you sense?" came Tholan's voice over his shoulder.

"Magic," the knight said back, he paused for the sake of keeping his draconian senses focused, "far more powerful than we anticipated, but undisciplined. Volatile like we feared it would be."

Tholan nodded and sifted his attention back to the harbor marshal. He was holding two pieces of paper in his hands, official passes to grant refugees passage into Arendelle. An assistant had taken the passes into his hands and was discussing their validity.

"What do you think?" the assistant asked.

The marshal leaned in. The steel rims of his spectacles caught a sliver of moonlight as he looked the documents over several times before nodding. "They seem genuine," he said before taking hold of the passes and lifting them into the moonlight, "but I am not sure about the seal for being blue whist the others we have seen thus far have been red. One can't jump to conclusions with matters like these."

The knight looked to his side and saw that boy again, he was still trying to get a glimpse under the hood. The knight smiled and pulled back his cloak in a way so only the child would see his hands. A snap of his fingers brought to life a little flame that burned without fuel and plumed no smoke. Now the boy's curiosity would be sated at the sight of magic, tapping his nose a few times with a wink.

"Hmm. Okay then," the marshal said with a smile and handed back the passes to Tholan. "Everything seems in order, welcome to Arendelle." Tholan and the knight stepped across the wooden gangway onto Arendelle's port. Strait away there was difference: the port was solid like oak should be. It would had been nice to have felt such solidity back on the ship. The constant worry about the deck falling through; the relentless rocking that ringed out your insides. The knight's hatred for ships had just been kindled.

Then in his ear, there was pleading and arguing, it would seem the group behind didn't have passes. Two guardsmen where moving in the direction of this group, halberds to bare and expressionless faces that would show no remorse.

"Wait!" the knight looked up to say.

"Eyes," Tholan muttered and the knight quickly diverted his vision back to his boots.

"Is there something the matter," the harbor marshal spoke.

"Their passes," the knight said as he moved back up the gangway. "Are right here." A leather purse found its way into the marshal's palm. He took a peak and licked his lips at the sight of the silver moon contrasting with Galahandrun gold. He looked up and that simile was back on his face. Arendelle's economy may have ran on Kroner and ore, but gold would always sway man like chocolate can sway children.

"It would seem these people have just purchased a onetime pass," he directed those spectacles to the refugees, "you're free to proceed. Welcome to Arendelle," he said. The guards stepped away and allowed them to pass.

The knight returned to Tholan's side with a smile of his own. There was only praise and gratitude in his ear now, until of course the next group in line stepped up. Tholan was quick to lead the knight away into the crowds of refugees spilling into the town before things went any further. The layout of Arendelle proved to be pretty straight forward, mainly because everything was so much smaller here than in the Jagged Plains. Almost immediately from the port did the green and beige brick of the palace come into view. One of the windows, a triangular one looking out to the north mountain, there where cold whispers of magic coming from behind it. The cold felt like rope tugging at the knight's intrigue, what kind of person would power like that shape?

"That noble side of yours has always been hard to keep in check," Tholan said.

"It certainly gets distracting at times," the knight admitted.

"I didn't mean to accuse. In the world we live in now, with so many people all working for nobody but themselves, nobleness has become a rare necessity."

Tholan's hand tighten around his sword's hilt. He was letting his blue cape flow behind him and made no effort to conceal his weapon. His brown eyes where scanning the streets; his bearded mouth not so much as smirking. "It was reckless to draw so much attention however. No doubt prying eyes are on us now."

"All this sneaking about grows sickening," the knight said. He felt suffocated, like his personality was drowning under all the subtly.

"Deal with it, we aren't in the great plains of jagged stone anymore. This is the green north. Magic is seldom used in this part of the world, its best that we try not to draw further attention to ourselves."

Of course Tholan wouldn't have a problem with being subtle. Bladewalkers where known for working in the shadows. The truth about them was that they were organised by the king of Galahandra to fight whatever horrors moonless nights would animate. Some portions of their infamous legends where true, they did recruit from the strongest children Galahandra had to offer. But they kidnapped anybody, they drafted children by right of a contracted signed by the king himself. As Tholan would justify: a childhood is all the blade asks you to sacrifice. Do so and you'll gain an ally for life.

"I am still not sure about any of this," the knight said as they walked through the town. They split off from the crowds of refugees, finding themselves to be the only ones heading towards the gates of the palace. "We can't exactly count on them just letting us in."

"Of course we can," Tholan assured, "we're expected as I keep telling you. Notice how our passes have a blue seal on them rather than a red one. That's how the guards will know it's us."

They came up to the palace, an impressive structure to say the least. The light of the full moon was reflecting from the sea's surface to project an oceanic pattern over the walls, waving and flowing to give the palace a life of its own. It was a poised testament to Arendelle's greatness in both scale and appearance. The architecture was humble like the cottages from the town, but there was this sharpness in its design which give it that certain composer you'd expect of anything royal. Five guards in those green and purple gambesons where posted in a line at the open gatehouse. They lacked the same impressiveness. The fully armoured, elite Halan'axtra guard of Galahandra would put them to shame.

Four of the guards tensed into attention and crossed their halberds to block the path. The fifth one stepped up to Tholan. He held up the suite of plate armor with posture and wore a purple cape depicting Arendelle's flag with pride. He marched with stiff movements that pounded with a metallic beat.

"Guard Captain Rilen Pascal of his majesty King Agdar, ruler and protector of the green north. You shall state your titles and business here," the guard captain ordered with a voice as stiff as his step.

Tholan handed over the passes without a word. The guard captain took them and looked back up after glancing at the blue seal. His broad face loosened, but was still deadly serious like a razor is deadly sharp. "Follow me. His majesty awaits in the throne room," he said on a spin of his heel.

"When we're presented before his majesty," Tholan started in that hushed tone again, "please try to let me do the talking."

"No promises," the knight grinned under his hood.

They entered the palace through the massive doors of solid oak to step into the entrance hall. Again the knight only took glances, being sure not to keep his head lifted for long. The interior lived up to the exterior's standards. The ceiling rose so high that it escaped the light of the fixed torches. Two glass chandeliers hung from this unlit ceiling to glisten like stars draping in twilight. The floor was made of polished wood so clean that it behaved like a mirror and the surrounding walls where decorated with a ruby-red wallpaper and hanging art. There where corridor entrances on both sides of the hall, as well as a twin staircase ahead that split off into two passageways like a snake tongue. Guardsmen where stationed at this staircase who snapped to attention at the guard captain's presence, "his majesty awaits," they said under breathe.

The corridors where long and branched off into ridged junctions. Silver light was shining from the windows, gently kissing the steel plate of knight armor lining the walls. The suites were empty, motionless, and yet ever watchful. Sentinels of inanimate steel, in your peripheral they would almost look alive. They came to a set of large double doors that where decorated with painted white and swirling patters of red. Another two guards were waiting at these doors who pushed them open at their captain's nod. The knight noticed these two guardsmen join to be escorts as the group entered the throne room. There were no windows, just walls of solid oak polished to an outstanding shine. The space was made narrow by two lines of hardwood columns holding the massive ceiling up where hanging touches of gold-encrusted steel hung down from.

At the far end of the room, on the red cushions of a humble throne sat the king of Arendelle with his queen sitting next to him on a throne of her own. The knight knew who she was, a women who once called herself princess of Galahandra. Induna the youthful. This women was known for her beauty: her bronze locks dulled the silver of her crown and the texture of her skin out perfected the craftsmanship of her dress. The marriage between these two had been arranged – as many overs had been before them – to ensure an ever lasting peace between Galahandra and Arendelle. It was agreed many years ago that members of the two royal families would be wedded once every thirty years as the ultimate sign of friendship and good will. Decisions of where the couple would rule would be determined by which kingdom had heirs. Agdar was a virgin king when he married Induna, so it was Arendelle that would be the kingdom Induna would come to be the queen of.

The group came to a stop roughly ten paces away from their majesties and the guards bowed before stepping to the side. Tholan and the knight where in the center of king Agdar's brown eyes now. He had taken a straight, composed posture laced with all the authority of being king. His expression was relatively blank to conceal weakness, but that tinniest hint of a hopeful smile didn't escape the dragon knight's vigilance. Induna was a little easier to read. Her smile was wide and inviting, yet spoke tales of sorrow: her home kingdom was facing trouble after all.

Tholan drew his sword and the guardsmen instantly responded, but an uplifted hand of the king held them back. It was a sword of sleek design with a slight curve to it. An arcane-tempered weapon forged from moonsilver, necessary for slaying creatures of the night. He span the blade until it was pointed at the floor and then he fell on one knee. The blade went through a slit in his boot and rang when it hit the floor. This was the salute of the Bladewalkers, something that Tholan had been doing since childhood. He would had stabbed his foot so many times now that a permanent slit would run straight through the flesh that a blade could travel down without drawing blood.

"Bow," Tholan muttered for noticing the king's frown.

"If I must," the knight whispered back. He kept his cloak close to him and lazily tilted his body over slightly, the kings frown grew larger. The knight smiled as Tholan sighed.

"Which one of you is Tholan Crescentheart?" King Agdar spoke.

"That is I, your majesty," Tholan said as he got up and put away his sword.

"Your friend doesn't seem to share your interest in manners, usually I wouldn't tolerate such behavior," He took a breath and a little bit of that expressionless mask peeled away, "but we are not gathered her under _usual_ circumstances."

Tholan simply nodded.

"Let us proceed straight to the matter at hand then-"

"-wait" came the soft voice of Induna, "do you bring any news from Galahandra? Is my father-"

"Slain I am afraid, by the bane of many." Tholan paused as Induna threatened to let grief take hold of her. The queen took a breath and retained composure. There was water in her eyes, but she gave Tholan a queue to continue.

"I assure her majesty it was a good death. He died on the field of battle defending his kingdom. I saw him lead the charge of his Halan'axtra guards myself, but army or not, he was no match for a high dragon. Galahandra survived the bane's attack, but I am afraid that smaller provinces such as Ambersnow and Malarice where lost in the tide of war."

"And the bane of many himself? What has become of him?" Induna asked.

Tholan paused and glanced to the dragon knight stood next to him, he saw that smile drop under the hood. "Also slain your highness. But his acolytes remain."

Induna nodded and sat back in her throne. It would take a mountain of words to explain Galahandra to someone who has never been there. So fortunately Arendelle had Induna to know that the Jagged Plains where the native homelands of dragon kind and that the throne of Galahandra could be claimed by either a human or a dragon through the trial of combat. But she would also know about _'the bane of many'_ as people called him, she would know how obsessed that high dragon was with power and how he lost his throne centuries ago to Induna's greatest ancestor: Isumord the waking frost.

"Shall we proceed?" King Agdar asked.

Induna nodded with that smile back on her face, "we shall."

"Very well then. Crescentheart, in your letters, you said you understood our daughters…condition."

"We do your majesty. Your daughter is what our people call an ice elementalist, she's a descendant to the waking frost himself so one can only say she has inherited such power for a purpose."

Agdar nodded in understanding, one would guess he had Induna to thank for that. "So far there haven't been any incidents, but do her powers pose any threat?" the king asked.

The knight stepped forward, "Indeed she does. Your daughter is a beacon. Her power screams its presence to all who can sense it. What her magic will inevitable attract will be Arendelle's undoing."

The eyes of Agdar narrowed and the surrounding guardsmen were so very close to bringing their arms to bare. He shifted his gaze to Tholan, "do you have a solution to present to me or have you come to only offer warnings?"

Tholan gave a nod to the knight, the signal to go into his travel pack hidden under his cloak. He retrieved a pair of white gloves, child-sized apparel woven from silk. The knight could hear the whispers of the arcane humming between the fabrics.

"We present to you, your majesty, the means to keep your daughter safe. She must learn to control her powers." Tholan said.

The king leaned forward, "a pair of gloves?"

"They can suppress magic, block your daughter's presence from the world. Until she can control her powers, she must learn to conceal them," Tholan explained.

Agdar's expression sank like a stone in water, "But typically your offer will come with a price."

Tholan nodded and produced a sealed document that he handed to the guard captain. The captain looked at the letter for a moment before marching up to the king and presenting the document with a bow. Agdar sighed as he removed the seal and unfolded the contents.

"A contract your highness, to allow the order of Bladewalkers to operate in Arendelle," Tholan said. An understatement really. The King would soon realize that for his daughter's safety, he would have to agree with funding and constructing the necessary facilities that Tholan's new order of Bladewalkers would need. There was also one other thing that the knight was certain Agdar would never agree to.

"The recruitment of children?" Agdar almost spat, "you expect me to agree to this? You make bold claims that my daughter's powers are a danger when in truth the threat to Arendelle would be this _order_ you are so eager to rebuild."

"The Bladewalkers where banished from Galahandra for a reason," Induna weighed in.

"For the wrong reason," the dragon knight growled.

"Eyes," Tholan muttered. The knight turned his back on the king.

The guards had tensed up again and where muttering among themselves on whether to take action. In that moment however, the coldness was coming on stronger. Raw magic was being used somewhere else in the palace, the knight could taste it in the air. "Your daughter is young, her powers are undeveloped, undisciplined, and volatile," he said over his shoulder.

The king was about to reply and his angry expression didn't suggest he was going to say something nice. But then came a chilling blast that swept through the throne room and a high pitched cry followed after it.

"Mama, Papa!"

The king and queen stood from their thrones, eyes wide with anguish, "Elsa," they both whispered. "We will conclude this business another time," the king said.

Tholan nodded, "I am sure we will."

"And I am sure you will do what is right for your kingdom," the knight added, knowing full well what the king and queen where about to discover as they disappeared into the corridor.

* * *

 **And the rest is history...**

 **It may take a week to get the next chapter up. I really want to push myself for quality rather than quantity this time. like spelling right without a 'w' this time, stuff like that.**

 **See you all in the next one.**


	2. Chapter 1: No Rest For The Wicked

The sky was beckoning for Elsa to return, howling for her to ride the seas of Invisible Ocean. The wind was spiraling in cyclones of high pinched notes like a worried mother calling out for her child. It came down and stroked past Elsa's cheek, catching the crisp whiteness of her braid; caressing the chilly cape flowing from her ice dress. It circled around her body and slipped in-between her fingers to make her nails tingle with excitement. It almost felt like the wind was tugging on her hand with impatience.

Elsa wouldn't keep the sky waiting any longer as her cool irises looked down to her palm. A burst of sapphire energy dressed in dancing flurries sparkled up into the air before her. The magic went up to mix with the wind, cloaking it in a veil of ice and snow. First there was only an outline, a framework of snowflakes joining together like a zodiac. Then it crystallized to take a solid form, crackling with excitement and swirling in the air with beating wings. Its eyes glowed blue like the sky; its translucent ice wings carried its body on the wind. Half eagle, half lion: the body of a griffin.

Elsa jumped without a care, diving of the edge of the north mountain into the embrace of her magical construct. On her ice griffins back, Elsa was soon among the blue, one with the wind and sky itself. This was freedom, the ability to go and do as she pleased. No kingdom, no royal subjects and no responsibilities to tie her down to earth.

Up here she could be whoever she wanted to be. That person was not the queen of Arendelle, nor the ice queen of the north mountain. Up here she was Elsa, plain and simple.

Elsa closed her eyes, savoring this feeling she had craved since childhood. 13 years of living by the phrase 'conceal don't feel.' 13 years of spending everyday locked behind the blue patterned door of her bedroom. 13 years of wearing silk gloves. Elsa never thought she'd get a chance to be her own women, to finally be free to choose whatever destiny would suite her best. A smile spread across her face and she whispered, "Let it go…"

But then came a voice that roared like thunder, "Do you feel safe?"

Elsa's eyes snapped open and the white clouds where gone, replaced by a black haze surging with angry lightning. Elsa encouraged her griffin to bank and go the other way. It was then that she saw the same clouds where all around her, slowly approaching like a black panther on the prowl.

A vibration rippled through the air, a thunder clap that could deafen your hearing. It was that voice again, coming forth louder and more powerful as the clouds drew closer. "Do you believe you are safe?"

Elsa banked again and pointed the griffin downwards to dive before the blackness could consume her.

"Know that you are, in no sense of the word, safe," The voice boomed.

The clouds drew nearer, tunneling around Elsa and her griffin, reaching out to trap them with bolts of lightning. It was a tight squeeze as Elsa rode out through the tinniest gape, following the last beam of light the world would ever see. The blue sky was gone, consumed by darkness. Elsa looked back. She saw a massive shadow with bat-like wings trailing a dark haze. It came shooting towards her with the same haste as lightning, aiming to catch her in its talons. The last thing Elsa saw where a pair of fiery orange eyes that burned her vision black.

All she was left with was a terrible growl in her ear, "You. Are. mine…"

The queen opened her eyes and jolted back from her wooden desk. She looked to one side – saw a triangular window – then looked to her other side and saw a white-painted door with blue patterns. She was in her bedroom. A sigh of relief took her breath as she sat back, it was just a dream. She must have dozed off again, working three days straight without proper rest tends to cause that. At least this time she was prepared with a silk handkerchief to wipe away any drawl. Last time she had to use her sleeve. A turn of her wrist reveled the little dark crescent where saliva had soaked into the green fabric. Don't look at it, she told herself.

Then there was a flash of blue followed by a terribly familiar clap. Elsa jumped and her vision went to the triangular window. Rain was knocking on its surface, battering the glass with thousands of droplets so thick in numbers they cast a foggy veil over the outside world. The lightning flashed and tore through the air again, it annoyed Elsa that her heart jumped a consecutive time. The queen turned her head to a corner where her beautiful ice dress was hung up on a manikin. She felt ever so tempted just to put it on for some comfort, but the queen shook her head and thought better of it. The queen is expected to don the colors of Arendelle's flag. What Elsa wore currently was not unlike her coronation attire with its green skirt and purple cape, but she was guilty of modifying her outfit with ice to give it a few snowflake patterns.

There was a subtle crackle, Elsa looked and noticed frost was creeping up her desk. Since the thaw, 3 days ago, her powers had been mostly stable with fear and stress being the only instances that would set them off. A wave of her hand is all it took however to peel the frost away into dust. Her eyes diverted to the contents on her desk. She saw letter after letter of open correspondents with envelope fragments scattered everywhere. There was a quill sitting in an empty pot of ink, a cup of cold tea and an open book in the center with one of the pages a little creased from where Elsa's head must have laid.

The queen took the book into her hands, forming an ice marker in her hand to save the page. That would be enough reading of a warrior princess riding griffins into battle for one day. She got up and took the book over to her shelves where she stored all the over fantasy stories she had collected over the years. This particular book, the one she was stroking the spine of, this was her favorite one of all. Not because the author was Johnthony Markferm, although a terrific writer, it was the sense of freedom that Elsa found appealing. When Kathrine, the main character, would ride into the sky on her Griffin Apollo. The queen shook her head, no longer could she allow this story be a distraction. She put the book on the top shelve with all her other favorites.

A blue flash boomed again, Elsa smiled for not jumping that time. She went over to the window and looked at the black clouds above. What is it about lightning that people find so scary? This particular storm that had shown up yesterday was considered a good Oman after all. The priests called it Thor's parade, black clouds continually flashing with energy pops of blue and the occasional purple. A storm cloud that apparently never dissipates, parading around the world. It's said to rain waters that nourish the lands and surge with energy that grants long life to those who are struck by it.

Then came a knock on her door that took the queen off guard, she jumped in a flurry of frost. "Pull yourself together Elsa," the queen groaned to herself.

"Your majesty," came the familiar voice of the servant Gerda, "Trademaster Beckit has arrived. He awaits your highness in the entrance hall," she called through the door. "I also understand that your adviser and guard captain are gathered in the throne room, apparently they have a matter that needs your attention."

"Thank you Gerda," Elsa called back with a crooked smile. A matter that needed the queen's attention? What an original twist to today's events. "Will you tell Samuel and sir Rilen then that I'll be with them shortly? I'll be settle things with Mr Beckit first."

"I certainly will your majesty. Will there be anything else her highness desires?"

"Is Anna out of bed yet?" Elsa said as she walked across her room. It took considerable effort to walk past her own bed without falling into its soft sheets.

"I don't believe so, would your highness like me to wake her?"

Elsa reached for the handle and pulled the door open. It was still strange to do that without having to worry about whether or not Anna was about. Gerda, in a green servant uniform, was what she saw first. Then came the empty suites of knight armor that almost seemed to stand to attention at their queen's presence.

"That won't be necessary," Elsa said, "It's just that I have some business that will take me outside the palace later. If my sister awakes while I am gone, would you just tell her I have gone to pay my respects?"

Gerda nodded slowly, she knew the queen referred to her parents. Elsa wasn't present at their funeral, it took place 3 years ago when she didn't have a grip on her powers. Their grave stones where well overdue her visit. Hopefully their spirits wouldn't be angry, she'd read enough of Johnthony's novels to know the dangers of not paying respects to the dead. Apparently angry spirits have a habit of getting rather vengeful when the sun leaves the sky.

"I'll be sure to let Princess Anna know your majesty," Gerda bowed before slipping into Elsa's bedroom. The servant had her routine cleaning duties to perform. Elsa turned and started towards the entrance hall. Lightning flashed and thunder boomed on her way there, hopefully Thor would be kind enough to let up on his parade later. When the time would come for Elsa to go outside would be preferable. If the queen, however, had to get wet to give her respects for the first time then she'd make do. What's rain other than melted snow anyway?

Elsa came into the entrance hall on the snake-tongue staircase. There were two guardsmen at the bottom as always but the man standing in the middle of the hall was new. He was dressed in a black raincoat with a black hat over his black and grey hair. Daniel Beckit, the gods hadn't been kind in shaping him. The slight hunch of his back denied him height. The wrinkles of his face denied him youth. His nose and chin where pointed like daggers to deny him looks. But yet, Beckit had strengths. The gods had given him a razor wit for commerce and mud-brown eyes that could pin point exploitable opportunity from miles away.

"Your majesty," Beckit's grimy voice said with a low bow that had him looking at his knees.

"Thank you for coming," Elsa said, putting her formality mask on, "you understand why I asked for you here?"

Beckit shot back up, or as far as his back would allow. "But of course, your grace. I read your letter through quiet thoroughly-"

"And shall you agree to adjust the prices of firewood for the next week?" Elsa said down to the trademaster. She had never took pride in speaking with men like Beckit, the sooner they could get things over the better.

Beckit pursed his lips, "well your highness, you have to see things through my perspective. I am a business man, demand for firewood is up so it's only necessary that prices rise to keep the stocks from going dry."

Elsa frowned, clearly Beckit hadn't read the letter as thoroughly as he claimed. "The crown will compensate the merchants for any loss of profit."

That changed Beckit's expression, "oh well that illuminates the situation in an entirely new light. Um yes, it would be quite possible to adjust the price of firewood under these circumstances."

Elsa nodded and put on a smile, "very good, now I understand in the letter you sent back that there was something you wished to discuss?"

"Y-Yes your majesty," Beckit said nervously, "this trade embargo with Weselton. Well, the people are not very convinced it was a wise move."

The queen's smile was gone and Beckit's coat rippled under a cool gust. "B-but of course I do not disapprove your majesty. It's just the trade agreements with Weselton took a vast amount of effort to set up and the ice harvester guild relay on them heavily. Considering the damage to the port and the fleet, our great kingdom needs as many allies as possible."

Elsa sighed, Beckit was making sense. Arendelle's economy had defiantly taken a hit since the great thaw: the collateral damage had left a rather unwanted handicap on trade capacity. Typical though that Beckit would bring up the ice harvester guild. That was a business the Beckit family had founded. They were originally a band of travelling merchants who gathered influence and favor in a great many kingdoms before they came to Arendelle. The ice harvester guild reshaped Arendelle's ice market, at first it was only the close ally kingdom of Galahandra that imported Arendelle's ice. But the vast connections that the Beckit family possessed led to Arendelle going on the short list for every kingdom looking for only the highest quality of ice blocks available.

Even the infamous state of Weselton. "The ice harvester guild will make do," Elsa said, looking down to meet the trademaster's eye.

Beckit nodded, "Very well then your highness. I suppose that concludes our business then," his lips shaped up into a grin that could cut diamond, "until the council tonight of course."

Elsa nodded and waved Beckit off, she watched he man stumble away to the doors and before he walk out into the stormy rain he turned back. "Oh and I did very much enjoy your majesty's speech yesterday. Love will thaw, I am sure it will catch on as Arendelle's new moto."

"Good day trademaster Beckit," Elsa with a rather awkward wave goodbye.

When Beckit finally walked out the door, Elsa let out a breath and dropped some of her posture and poise. She never felt like she could be herself when talking to people like him. All the formalities required of the queen grow tiresome after a while. It all felt like a facade, one Elsa had to keep up with every person she spoke with. Expect for Anna of course. She made and agreement with her sister to be the person she was when they were kids. Heavens knows Anna had never changed since then.

Elsa turned back to the staircase and started making her way to the throne room, hopefully she'd get to taste the sweetness of having free time after hearing what sir Rilen had for her. At least he was somebody she could be a little more casual with, he had been serving in the palace since Elsa's childhood. After mother and father died, he would often stop by her door to offer some words of comfort. Father trusted him greatly, enough to knight him for his services and allow him to be one of the few people allowed to know about Elsa's powers. For that reason, Elsa would sometimes let sir Rilen into her room and they'd play chess or just simple talk. He'd also go down and fetch books from the library from time to time, Elsa could never go down there herself.

The queen came up to the double door with swirling patterns of red. Two guards stood to attention. "Your majesty," they said before pushing on one door each so Elsa could effortlessly step through the doorway into the throne room. She had always found some comfort among these old wooden walls, they were humble and inviting. The throne room had that warm, homey feeling about it that would sit inside you like hot tea on a cold day. That was mother and father for you, more interested about making a home for their children than making a place for their subjects.

At the far end, standing before the throne was the queen's guard captain, Sir Rilen Pascal and the queen's adviser, Samuel Rosenburge. The two contrasted each other nicely.

Sir Rilen was old, pushing into his fifties. Yet age didn't keep the man from retaining a full head of grey hair and the strength to done a full suite of plate armor. With nothing but pride, he always wore a purple cloak that depicted the golden Diradona from Arendelle's flag. Sir Rilen honored his queen with a disciplined warrior salute, but offered a smile as warm as the surroundings.

Samuel on the other hand was young and baled. He felt more comfortable donning a formal outfit of green silk and wore shoes as shinny as his head. Elsa noticed him twisting a gold ring on his finger. It was one that his father had left him, one that was granted to his father for serving the old king with exceptional effort. For this, Elsa saw it fit to keep the role of royal adviser in the Rosenburge family. Samuel had taken to the role with nothing but optimism and competence so far. He gestured with a graceful bow at her majesty's approach.

"Your highness," Sir Rilen spoke, "I trust your business with the trademaster was tolerable."

Elsa smiled back, and unlike earlier with Beckit, it was genuine. "We came to an understanding, the people will get their firewood now."

"Excellent," Samuel said, enthusiastic as ever, "I am glade my advice could had been of assistance. So with people getting their firewood from merchants, the crown can focus resources on continuing repairs on the dock and its ships."

"Indeed," Elsa nodded. The whole issue was brought up by Samuel in the first place. The man had a strength for gathering common knowledge. He had wrote to the queen and offered his opinion on the matter like a good adviser should.

"So what is this matter you wanted to discuss?" Elsa said towards sir Rilen. She felt her hands clamping around one another. It was as if she was bracing for something, like the coming issue was going to tear her from her throne.

"It's nothing too urgent your majesty," Sir Rilen assured to see Elsa sigh with relief. "The staff was minimized by order of the old King when the gates where closed 13 years ago. Now that they are open again, more guards are simply needed."

"I can see to that."

"Not necessary your majesty," Sir Rilen said to now see Elsa frown, "Admiral Birwing has already agreed to transfer the necessary troops from the navy. Most of them are veterans of the guard, the ones that weren't selected to remain in the palace all those years ago. It's equipment that we need, good swords and armor for these men."

"Is this the matter you want me to look into then?"

Sir Rilen nodded.

"We hate to bring up something so trivial," Samuel spoke up, nervously twisting that gold ring on his finger, "it's just that the local blacksmith is being…difficult."

"Difficult?" Elsa said, "What do you mean by that?"

A metallic clunk rang through the air as sir Rilen put a hand on his sword's hilt, "the blacksmith is a dame good one, I trust him enough to forge and sharpen even my sword. But when I went to see him this morning about the extra equipment the palace would be needing, he refused to speak with me. To quote your majesty, if the queen requires my services then she can come and ask for them herself."

That took Elsa by surprise, she didn't see much of a problem however: "I am heading out to visit my parents' memorial today, seeing this blacksmith on my way back shouldn't take me too far out of my way." Really Elsa was happy about the idea, she was hoping an excuse to explore Arendelle would present itself.

"Are you certain your majesty?" Sir Rilen said, "Maybe I should go with you, this is a man who has proven to be disrespectful to those above him, and a forge is no place for royalty-"

"I'll be happy to have you along," Elsa smiled, "thank you for coming to me with this."

"Her majesty is welcome," Samuel said with a bow.

"Inform me when you are ready to leave your majesty," Sir Rilen met with a salute.


	3. Chapter 2: Lady Frost

Up here snow and ice could be more common than grass and dirt, rising and falling in dunes like a storm-influenced tide. Here there was no border between ground and sky, from either snow or clouds, this northern world was bleached white. There was a crisp freshness in the air; the essence of winter was riding the wind. To have exposed skin out here would be to invite the bite of lady frost, a women no ice harvester ever wants to meet. She dances among the wind in flurries that rend heat from flesh. She prowls the frozen lakes in wait for the clumsy to make a wrong step. She sleeps on top of mountains and hates to be disturbed, shout too loudly and she'll roar with the might of an avalanche. Lady Frost demands respect in these northern lands, for this is her domain, the refrigerated wastes. Only ice harvesters are brave enough to traverse this world of white, and there was no role in the world Kristoff would rather fill.

He looked out to that of which made his endeavor worth all the effort: the cool blueness of an ice lake that bore fractals shimming like gem stone. Kristoff could feel Lady Frost's gales nibbling at his coat, testing the bear fur for weaknesses. She'd find it to be old and ragged, but enough to keep Kristoff's body heat from her reach. He pulled his cloak close to turn her away completely, one of black wool to match his coat and an inner lining of dark crimson to match the red sash wrapped around his waist.

It had been a gift from Anna – this cloak – "think of me when you wear it," she had told him. That gave Kristoff some comfort, thinking of her silk-like voice that would warm his heart and her cute smile that would brighten his day. Who would had thought the first person he'd kiss would be the princess of Arendelle. A fantasy was playing in the back of Kristoff's mind. How would the noble snobs react if this relationship with Anna led to marriage? The ice harvester who became a prince. That thought nudged a little grin onto Kristoff's face.

Then came a strong gale, a little message from Lady Frost: to remind him of where he was. The sudden gale hit his cheek like a wake-up-slap and almost ripped the hat away from his blond hair. Kristoff shook his head in realization. He was here to harvest ice, not fantasize about Anna. So the ice harvester turned back to his sleigh where he'd grab his tools and start work. Sven was watching him, the reindeer he had known and worked with since childhood could tell he was distracted. Sven would speak through facial expressions that only Kristoff would understand: " _something on your mind?"_ his current one read.

"A couple of things to be honest," Kristoff said as he reached over the sleigh to retrieve his sack of equipment. He placed the bag on the ground, the contents clanking out metallic tunes.

A glance at Sven showed that the reindeer was waiting for him to share. "I cannot get Anna out of my head," He sighed before carefully drawing a long saw from the back of the sleigh. This too would be laid down on the fluffy ground for now.

Sven was making a new expression with a tilted head, _"You two are a couple now right?"_ it read.

Kristoff nodded, "yeah but I don't think it's anything serious."

 _"What makes you say that?"_

"Think about it Sven. She's a princess and I am just an ice harvester. Where would a relationship like that end up?"

 _"You like her?"_

Kristoff couldn't deny it, "yes."

Sven smiled, _"and she likes you?_ "

"I think so."

The reindeer's face grew slightly smug, _"then there is no reason it cannot end up however you want it to."_

Kristoff stepped over to undo the buckles attaching Sven to the sleigh. Sometimes it would be nice if he couldn't understand what Sven was saying: only if it would save him a conversation such as this. The last buckle came undone and Kristoff walked over to his tools, picking up the sack and resting the saw on his shoulder. He took a breath and walked out onto the ice lake. Each step was carefully calculated, less he'd slip into Lady Frost's grasp.

Sven followed close by, his expression reading, _"What feelings Anna had for that Hans guy wasn't serious."_

Any positivity left on Kristoff's face was gone, wiped by bad memories and an overwhelming need to punch something, preferably Hans himself. "Your right, it wasn't a serious relationship. That was just upfront trickery Hans did. He'll get what's coming to him though. Anna told me that the queen's sent him back to the southern isles where he's gonna face some kind of trail," the seriousness in his voice broke into a chuckle, "hopefully that broken nose will end up being the least of his worries."

 _"The queen?"_ Sven's expression read, _"You mean Elsa."_

"Of course I do. What other queen would I be talking about?"

 _"Then why not call her by her name? You two are friends aren't you?"_

Reluctantly Kristoff shook his head, "I wouldn't say we're on friendly terms just yet, to me she's the queen. Nothing more."

They reached the center of the lake where Kristoff laid down his equipment. The first thing to do was to establish a cutting grid. Iron stakes connected by ropes came out of the tool sack for that. He'd divide the area into what the guild had taught him to call 'rafts'- vital measurements for knowing where to cut the ice. Kristoff would always strive for quality, the rafts had to be perfect or he'd start again. He spent a fair amount of time carefully lining up each stake, ensuring the cutting grid had perfectly straight right angles and formed a flawless rectangle.

He took no notice of Sven's over-dramatic yawns.

Eventually came the point when Kristoff was ready to cut the ice, a job for the saw no less. He started at one corner of his cutting grid and used the ice axe from his tool sack to cut a little notch, a weakness that his saw would exploit. Soon the saw's tip was aimed at that notch and Kristoff stabbed at the frozen surface with all his weight to force the blade through. Now Kristoff could cut away at the marked areas, it took longer than usual to saw through, a dull blade maybe? With a crackling echo, individual chunks of frozen water – or 'ice cakes' – started floating freely.

Kristoff used tongs to hull the individual ice cakes out of the water, being certain to watch his footing. To fall into the lake out here in the refrigerated wastes would be a death sentence. Moisture would seep into his cloths, moisture that lady frost's cold bite would freeze solid. Kristoff had seen it before when he worked with the guild. The frosty fabric latches on to your skin and like a leech it drinks your body heat. It causes your heart to fluster, your muscles to tense and your nails to claw at that which should be keeping you warm.

"There we go," Kristoff grunted as he finally plucked the last ice cake out of the water. He grabbed his axe and tried spinning the blade in his hand, "whoa!" he exclaimed for almost dropping it into the lake.

"They're not letting me into the ice harvester circus anytime soon hey Sven?" Kristoff chuckled. It almost felt his humor was being wasted, he wasn't pleased by what could be read off Sven's expression. Why couldn't that reindeer just let this thing go?

 _"You and Elsa are friends. She knows that you risked your life for Anna after all."_

Kristoff's reply came swiftly, and was cold as the air it traveled on. "The queen has rewarded us for that by letting us sell ice to the palace _exclusively._ This is every ice harvesters dream contract where on right now. Not even the guild has such a privilege."

Sven frowned, _"Then doesn't that mean she trusts you."_

"Can we just drop this?" Kristoff said, his voice ringing with frustration.

Sven shook his head and Kristoff sighed before directing all his focus to shaping the ice blocks. It took a couple of hours to get all the ice cut to that perfect rectangular shape he'd only settle for. The work wasn't just tiring, it stimulated Kristoff's body heat. Caution was necessary, if Kristoff worked too hard, he'd sweat and Lady Frost would find that weakness she had been waiting for. The hardest part was always getting the ice blocks onto the sleigh, not just because of the weight but because of how easily they can slide off one another's friction-less surface. Kristoff was panting by the end and had a terrible ache in his shoulder. He was dry and warm through, so he wouldn't complain.

Then he noticed Sven was giving him a cold stare.

"What's up buddy?" Kristoff said for finally registering Sven's presence again.

 _"You know I hate it when you ignore me."_

Kristoff raised his hands admittedly, "I am sorry. I just don't feel comfortable talking about how I feel towards the queen."

That frown was back on Sven's face, " _Do you have feelings for her?"_

That was exactly what Kristoff didn't want to hear, nor did he want to reply. "Of course I don't," he said in a pointless endeavor to conceal his embarrassment. "Well, maybe I did feel something when I first saw her at the ice palace. But come on, it was a beautiful women draped in ice, ice is my life! It was only for an instant, a heartbeat, and it didn't mean anything. Anna is who I am with and I want it to stay that way."

 _"So you're avoiding getting close to Elsa because you're worried you'll fall in love with her?"_ Sven read with a rather condemning stare.

"I hate to say it but yes," Kristoff said, an ashamed look about him. He led Sven to the front of the sleigh and started re-attaching his harness. "Do you remember when we worked with the guild? All the stories Rydon used to tell?"

Sven nodded with a hint of distaste in his expression.

"There was one that always stuck with me. The one about the sisters."

 _"I remember,"_ Sven read, that look of distaste becoming more prominent. Rydon wasn't one to tell stories that could be considered child friendly.

"It was what he said after telling it, _never date a girl who has a sister unless you're good at two-timing_ , that line has been ringing in my head a lot lately," Kristoff said. His voice had grown quiet, he feared saying the words had cemented his fate.

He walked back and climbed onto his sleigh, resting his head back on the stacks of ice blocks. He looked at Sven and saw the reindeer offer a comforting smile, an expression that read, " _Want to change the subject?"_

"Can we?"

Sven nodded, _"how about this new sleigh we got here?"_

Kristoff chuckled, "yeah it's a few leagues ahead of our old one."

The new sleigh defiantly made the long trip back towards Arendelle a lot easier, and a lot faster. Sure, the overall speed of a sleigh is based on what pulls it but Kristoff could tell Sven was having no problems. The rails glided over the snow leaving the faintest tracks. His older one would often sink down, ice blocks or not, Sven would always have problems dragging it up any gradient. This sleigh wasn't dragging, it was practically hovering.

Soon the scenery began to change, the smell of pines started to mix with the wintry air and green grass was invading the white snow. The blackness of that cloud was also drawing closer, Kristoff could make out the sign of rain in the distance. It would be necessary to stop at the ice harvester tavern, an establishment of the guild specifically tailored to ice harvesters. It occupies the middle ground between the icy heights of the mountains and the warm civilization of Arendelle. A sleigh can't be pulled along the dirt paths – or probably mud paths thanks to that cloud – that lead into town, wheels need to be added. Traditionally, a set of detachable wheels would be carried along with all the necessary equipment for ice harvesting. The problem was they took up a lot of room and usually meant that less ice could be loaded. Now there was the ice harvester tavern to provide the service of fitting sleighs with detachable wheels and also removing them for a small payment.

"Hey what gives," Kristoff said as Sven came to a sudden halt.

The reindeer wasn't turning his head, there no way of knowing what he was saying. Kristoff stood up on the sleigh and tried peaking over, a glance of crimson grabbed his curiosity.

"What is it Sven?" Kristoff said as he hopped off the sleigh and walked around. He still didn't get an answer and saw why when the red stains of blood came into full view. The redness had lost its liquid state, lady frost had drunk it all, only leaving a large area of red snow.

Sven turned his head, his expression rather fearful. _"What do you think happened?"_ it read.

"I am not sure," Kristoff said whist scanning the area. Leading away from the red snow where the signs of tracks. A closer inspection of their shape confirmed them to be that of a deer.

"Let's find out," Kristoff added with a smile.

 _"I don't like this,"_ Sven read as Kristoff started undoing his harness.

"Come on buddy, aren't you a little curious that the deer tracks are leading _away_ from the blood. What if it's still alive and needs our help?

Reluctantly Sven nodded and started following Kristoff after the last buckle came undone. The tracks lead into the woodland where the great pines insulated the air and gave it a hint of warmness. The smell was terrific at first, the minty taste of Diradona mountain flowers was blessing the senses. But as Kristoff and Sven followed the tracks further, they noticed the smell was decaying. When they reached the tracks end, the smell of the woodland was terrible. The lushness of pines and the minty tang was gone. Instead the murkiness of evil was about, incarnated by the deer corps laying in the snow. Now the smell was biting at Kristoff's nose worse than lady frost: it was manure, vomit and sour milk all mashed into one hideous stench.

" _I really don't like the look of this,"_ Sven's rather disgusted expression read.

"Alright Sven," Kristoff said as he held his nose, "if you don't want to look at it you can wait back at the sleigh."

 _"What are you going to do with it?"_

Kristoff looked from his friend to the dead deer. He stood directly over the body, a white vapor being expelled from his mouth. "I wanna see if I can figure out what killed it, and why _whatever killed_ _it_ just left the body here without feeding or anything."

The reindeer nodded and replied through a different expression, one with a raised eyebrow. " _You won't be too long will you?"_

"Don't worry buddy, I'll be back as soon as I am done here," Kristoff assured.

He watched the reindeer walk off into the woodland and hugged his cloak close, shame that his outfit could hold back the coldness but wouldn't turn away the smell of stale flesh.

Kristoff looked at the tracks, confusion griped his expression. "You walked all the way over here before dyeing?"

He crouched and inspected the wound. It was unlike anything he had ever seen. It was a deep, three-clawed laceration that went all the way across the dear's body. Was a bear responsible? The wound looked too deep to be inflicted by anything smaller, but then again, what bear has three claws rather than four? The kill wasn't a fresh one, all the red had been drained to only leave behind the blackness of decay.

There wasn't any signs of a bite mark or some indication that a creature had fed itself from its kill. It would seem lady frost had gorged herself: the eyes being clouded with ice; how the fur was brittle from coldness. Kristoff drew closer, not daring to draw a single breath through his nose. There was something that had caught his eye, the part of a black feather poking out from beneath the snow. A light tug on it reviled it to be attached to something, Kristoff frowned and started brushing away the snow. The deer was watching him as he worked, its lifeless eye gazing at Kristoff's peripheral.

With the snow cleared Kristoff could see that the feather was the tail of an arrow that had its head buried deep in the deer's chest, probably impaling the heart. He gave the arrow a sold yank and stumbled back as the arrow came out easily, the deer's flesh almost seeming to burn away at its touch. The arrow head was beautiful, way too much craftsmanship had gone into something you'd likely lose after shooting. It was a little sword with the hilt fully detailed and barbed in spiteful ivy. On the blade where engravings, a short sentence written in wavy handwriting.

"To live to die?" Kristoff read.

A perky giggle echoed overhead among the trees. Kristoff shot up and pulled his crossbow out from behind his cloak, a little investment he had made to ensure wolfs wouldn't be responsible for another wrecked sleigh. That giggle came back, urging Kristoff to spin around and aim the crossbow upwards. He saw nothing but the snowy pines and empty branches. Yet again it came, louder and more musical as if to mock Kristoff's incompetence.

"Show yourself!" Kristoff shouted, backing away from the deer. Then his eyes widened when his back nuzzled something solid. He span around with the intent to shoot.

A women now stood before him, the black and blue of her gambeson appropriately matching her ebony hair. She was fast, too fast for Kristoff to react as she grabbed his crossbow and yanked it from his grasp.

"Nice toy you got here," she said whist inspecting the craftsmanship.

Kristoff glanced at the sword at her waist, it was so close to his hand, maybe he could reach for it. Then he noticed the women glance at his palm and grin. Everything about her expression became a taunt, the phrase _'come at_ me' was being perfectly performed through body language. Kristoff groaned and backed off, only for the women to brush past his shoulder. She forced the crossbow back into Kristoff's hands, the bolt unloaded and the string taken off. The women had her back to him now, she was looking at the deer corps. Kristoff took notice of her cape. He saw blue with a symbol weaved by black thread, it was a sword impaling the head of some kind of creature. A rather terrifying thing: it had a sleek appearance with large fangs and what looked like tendrils trailing from its scalp. Like the wound on the deer corps, it was unlike anything Kristoff had ever seen.

"I am going to start running now if that's okay with you," Kristoff said as he tied the crossbow back to his belt.

"Don't," the women said, spinning around with a somewhat alarmed look about her, "I am not here to hurt you."

"So why sneak up on me like that?" Kristoff asked, thinking of ways to get his crossbow string back.

"Just a bit of fun," the women shrugged and to Kristoff's surprise she threw back the string and bolt. He looked at them in his palms for a moment before the women's voice took back his attention, "as I said, I am not here to hurt you."

Kristoff wouldn't believe that lightly, her equipment's quality was too high for her to be a common traveler. It was military standard, probably better than what Arendelle's guardsmen used. She wore a longbow across her body and had a quiver full of black arrows attached to her hip. Belts where strapped to her waist that carried throwing knives and there was even some kind of silver stake strapped to her shoulder.

There was an awkward silence, where the only noise was the rustling of leaves and Lady Frost's light howl on the wind. Kristoff was looking into this women's brown eyes, trying to see past first impressions. She looked young, probably around Anna's age. Good looking, but Kristoff wouldn't go so far as to say beautiful. Anna was thankfully the only women he'd associate that word with.

"So," the women said, "I am Dimarella, good to meet you."

"I am Kristoff, mind telling me what you're doing out here?"

Dimarella's lips formed a playful smile as she walked around the deer, "Waiting for you really."

"Come again?"

"You, I have been waiting here for you."

Kristoff frowned, "What's so special about me?"

That smile grew a little wider, "You're close to the royal family aren't you?

Kristoff nodded, his eyes surveying for escape routes.

"Great! So you have the connections _and_ you even passed my little test, talk about the full package." Dimarella said, bouncing with excitement.

Kristoff raised a hand, things where just getting stranger by the minute. "Slow down, what test? What connections?"

"Don't worry blondy, I'll be explaining _everything_ in a moment," Dimarella spoke as she bent down and plucked that over-crafted arrow from the ground. "First off, well done for finding my arrow. That was the test, had to know if the rumors about you being a good tracker where true."

A little smile nudged its way onto Kristoff's mouth. It was nice to get recognized for being good at something for once. He forced the smile away however, there was still far too many unknowns about this women.

"What was your arrow even doing their, why shoot a deer that's already dead?" Kristoff had to ask.

Dimarella shook her head, "Let's not focus on the unimportant, shall we? I'd ask what killed the deer in the first place if I were you."

"Okay then, I'll bite," Kristoff said with crossed arms, he opened his mouth to speak only for Dimarella to cut in.

"Not yet blondy, I am not done explaining myself yet. Now the connections, I hear from your little harvester friends at the tavern that you're in a rather _close_ relationship with the princess. If that's true then you're the perfect guy for this job I got lined up."

"What job?" Kristoff said to see rolling eyes.

"Maybe I'll explain if you stop interrupting me. I need a message delivered to the queen and you're _exactly_ the right person who can do that for me," she paused and reset a few strands of stray hair, "now then, feel free to ask your questions."

Kristoff wasn't sure where to begin, a women armed to the teeth shows up out of nowhere and suddenly starts asking for his help? "Why can't _you_ just deliver this message yourself?"

"A fair question," Dimarella nodded, "What I have to say is not exactly _believable_ , and I can't just schedule an audience. That would take too long. The situation demands haste, so this message has to come from your cute little mouth instead of mine."

"What makes you think _I'll_ believe you?"

"Because I am going to show you what killed this deer, then you'll want to be running off to Arendelle so fast one would think you ate the entire world's supply of sugar." Dimarella leaned in, her face dripping with anticipation, "okay, I know exactly what question you want to ask now. Go on, _what killed the deer?_ "

"Err…what killed the dear then," Kristoff asked, backing away slightly.

Dimarella offset herself a little to bring her cape forwards and pointed a thump down at the symbol. "Griever," she simply said.

Kristoff didn't feel any wiser, "What's a griever?"

"A vengeful shape-shifting spirit that feeds off sin," Dimarella said, her voice a monotone of optimism.

"That sounds a little far-fetched to me."

Dimarella rolled her eyes and giggled as she spoke, "Yeah I know right, I mean, a queen that can summon eternal winters is an everyday occurrence, but a Griever? No, no, no that's where people draw the line."

Kristoff could only purse his lips at that, "good point," he muttered. When he thought about it, a vengeful shape-shifting spirit would have to be the more believable thing next to living snowmen and an entire palace magically made of ice.

"So you want me to go back to Arendelle and tell the queen that I found a deer that was killed by a…griever?"

"Of course not, I want you to help me track the griever down, slay it, _then_ go back to Arendelle and tell the queen that you found a deer that was killed by a griever."

"Will I get anything out of this?" Kristoff queried, "Because this sounds like it's going to take me out of my way. I am just an ice harvester after all, not some kind of monster hunter."

"I tell you what blondy, help me and I'll owe you a favor. That's a very powerful thing, trust me on that one," she giggled when Kristoff tilted his head, "I'll also pay you if you do a good job."

"What would I be getting myself into? Last time I helped a girl without asking, I lost a sleigh down a canyon, got chased off a cliff by a giant snowman and almost got set on fire whist trying to escape a pack of wolves."

It looked like Dimarella could only purse her lips at that, "right then," she said. "Well, if you're worried about this being dangerous then… _yes_ do that. I'll be the one fighting the griever but I can't guarantee your safety. I mean, It's not like I am gonna use you as bait or anything," she paused in thought, "although that wouldn't be a terrible idea. But grievers are dangerous, as our _deer_ friend here found out."

Kristoff thought for a moment, by all accounts this women seemed almost as insanely optimistic as Anna. He turned his head to the deer on the floor and couldn't stop himself from picturing Sven. If this griever was real, and it was a threat, Kristoff would hate to say he didn't take his chance of stopping it.

"Fine," Kristoff shrugged, "I'll need to talk this out with my partner but you can count me in."

"Brilliant! I'll be waiting for you here then," Dimarella said before Kristoff off into the brush.


End file.
